


Discovery

by Warstang



Series: Journey Series - Vision and Wanda [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warstang/pseuds/Warstang
Summary: Vision feels for the first time and it nearly tears him apart. Post Civil War/Pre Infinity War





	1. Depression

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - This story was meant to punch you in the feels, so that's your warning.
> 
> I want to preface this with the fact that I very much LOVE TONY, though this chapter he is not written in the greatest of lights. I feel Tony would have been cold to Vision after Civil War after everything that happened and I don't think he quite understands Vision's emotional capabilities at that point. So, this is how I believe he would have discovered that he's more than a machine. I promise future chapters will show a significant change.
> 
> This story is replacing "Of Logic and Love" in this series. I've given it the boot to being a stand-alone since it was written before Infinity War and I've analyzed the ship in more depth than I did at that point.

Vision passed through the layers of earth, finally reaching the base where the crater was birthed. His sharp eyes spotted the vehicle immediately as Clint sped away with Wanda at his side. He could stop them; he was certain of it. The task would be easy having the element of surprise on his side. He could do it, but he wouldn't.

His powerful legs went limp as he sat at edge of the crater, fingers tracing the edges of the stone. The most unpleasant ache formulated at the center of his chest as he analyzed his thoughts. He had confided in Wanda, trusting her alone with his fears of the gem that was so pertinent to his being. Instead of protecting the insecurities, she had wielded the knowledge against him. Sending his body deep into the ground. The discomfort grew the longer he thought of it, yet he found that it was impossible to ignore.

His mind constricted in confusion, desperate to share his thoughts; to gain understanding of it. However, how could he? It was she who had been his source of information for these strange sensations that overcame him. She would not laugh at his misunderstandings of human interactions, nor scoff at him for not knowing the simplest of answers to them. She was there for him when he needed assistance to understand a new emotion. She had always been there.

He didn't understand. He had simply tried to protect her. It was just as Mr. Stark described, the world wanted to harm her and his mind fumbled at the thought of them doing so. Clint had attempted to take her against her will, his own eyes witnessed her hesitation when the spy commanded her to go. He fought vigorously against his restraints to reach her, to keep her safe from him, yet then the most peculiar event occurred. She turned on him.

As the night moved on he remained there in his torment, with one simple question prodding his mind. _Why did you leave me?_

* * *

The officers handled her with brute force. His body began to move on its own accord, but a hand at his chest halted him.

"That's close enough," the soldier commanded. Gripping his rifle as if the weapon was a match for his strength.

Returning his glance to Wanda, now secured with handcuffs uncomfortably behind her back. They need not be so firm with her, surely they must know. Seeing her small form, seemingly so fragile to him, be handled in such away ignited a strange fire in his body. He visualized tearing them from her, throwing their bodies to the ground without a care of what harm befell them. Disgusted by their ungrateful hands touching a body so precious without permission. He visualized damaging them for their wrong doings until the graphic imagery shot fear through his spine at what his mind had concocted. Glancing down at his hands, he nearly cried out in fear. _What is wrong with me?_

Their gazes met only once, just before she was taken from sight. Her eyes were clouded with feelings he had yet to fully understand. One thing was for certain, she was afraid. The emotion covered her features as she was forced onto the plane and he simply watched. Something in his heart begged him to free her, but his mind knew that freedom would not last. He could not hide her and given her recent abandonment, he did not believe she'd desired solitude with him. The last thing he comprehended before she was taken from sight, was the cloud of betrayal in her eyes and the tear sliding down her cheek.

* * *

The workers put the finishing touches on the floor where the crater used to be. His mind reeling with revelation as he analyzed the events countless times.

"Mr. Stark?" He spoke.

"Hmm," the millionaire grumbled. The coldness he displayed made conversation difficult to approach, as his attitude had changed drastically since Colonel Rhodes' incident

"Wanda believed I was caging her," he expressed his realization. "She did not understand that we were protecting her, she… she thought I was holding her against her will."

He was appalled by the stutter in his vocabulary, fearing one of his systems was flawed. Understanding that something terrible was happening to him.

"What's your point?" he asked, sounding quite bored.

Analyzing the tone, he established that it suggested he cared very little for the conversation. However, the desperation for guidance outweighed such logic. Bowing in shame, the greatest worry slipped through his lips. "She will not forgive me."

His gaze returned to Tony, hoping for a comforting solution that he could offer. Instead, he was left with nothing more than an eye roll as he began to walk away. "Who cares."

A frightening pain struck his chest with great intensity as he was left alone to stare at the repaired wreckage. His mind spun as he whispered to himself. "I care."

* * *

Colonel Rhodes sat upon the couch. Upon his legs a device Stark equipped him with to allow his legs to operate. Vision watched him from the kitchen, waiting for the dessert to finish baking. He had heard the Colonel mention it was his favorite dish, he only hoped that he had prepared it correctly. Within him, the pang that he'd become so familiar with recently flared each time his eyes fell upon the broken man.

A groan slipped as the Colonel reached for his water.

"Might I help you, Colonel?" He began to move in his direction, but halted when his groan turned to a growl.

"I do not need your help."

He tilted his head at the comment, finding it untrue. His strength could be of great benefit, but as usual he obeyed the Colonel's words.

A peculiar odor reached his senses, but before he could comprehend it the Colonel shouted.

"Vision!" His finger directed him to glance behind him.

"Damn it!" Stark growled as he rounded the corner. Quickly turning the stove off, he doused the oven in water. Coughing as smoke clouded his lungs, he continued this process until the room cleared. "Could you not make a mess for two seconds."

"Told you, he's a Terminator." Colonel scoffed from his spot on the sofa. "Better keep an eye on him."

"Clean this up," Stark pushed the dish of burned brownies in his arms before disappearing once more.

His mind attempted to analyze the scenario, but failed to process as the ache intensified. A new feeling constricted his throat, blocking it in an undesired way. He wished to reply, to explain that the edibles had been for Colonel Rhodes. However, the discomfort was too great and he feared what sounds would emerge if his lips were to part. His eyes lingered on the brownies for a moment longer, displeased with his failure. Mr. Stark helped the man from the room, leaving him alone to resolve his mess.

* * *

Days began to pass slower than normal, it was a strange anomaly he discovered. Two weeks had passed since the arrest had been made at the airport. Mr. Stark had returned from a visit with Captain Rogers, distraught and damaged from a battle he refused to speak of. Though it pained him to see the man in such pain, he began to understand that the billionaire was happier without his assistance. He had become relentless in delegating his tasks to him. Tasks that could easily be handled by Stark's brainless machines. He hadn't minded at first, believing the man simply needed time to grieve the loss of his allies. However, as days continues with no change, the implications of such assignments became clear. It was believed that he was of no greater value than any of Stark's technology.

Within his chest, the pang that had grown over the past several days throbbed at the thought. Footsteps sounded outside the door, but no one cared to investigate Wanda's room where he hid. A part of him wanted to be found. For Stark to stumble upon his distressed stare as he sat upon her bed. Perhaps then he would be willing to analyze his troubles for him. Perhaps then, he would find his emotions worth his time.

Returning his gaze to the monitor he'd set up, he looked once more upon his imprisoned friends. Mr. Barton seethed on his bench, while others paced their cells relentlessly. Calculating the number of hours they spent trapped within their cells, he wondered how long their minds would last. However, none of their punishments compared to the horrors within Wanda's cage. Her body was bound tightly. At her neck sat a device he'd seen activated twice, collapsing her to the ground. Now, she sat against the wall, never once allowing the simplest of movements. Her eyes once filled with great beauty now compared to a dad man's stare.

He'd been certain that Stark would act at the sight, that he'd move to free them at once. He had even presented the images to him, showing her torture. However, any attempts to persuade him of action ended in horrifying shouts that his worries were a waste of time. Glancing at the phone in his hands, he prepared the coordinates of the Raft prison.

It went against all logic and he feared the knowledge that pressing send would title him a criminal. However, as his eyes met the troubled form on the screen once more, his fingers delivered their route to freedom in a single second. Conveying a second message shortly after.

_Save her._

* * *

His body trembled. He began to fear something was terribly wrong with him. Forty-two days, he counted every second. Forty-two days since their petty war, forty-two days since he'd last seen _her,_ forty-two days since his mind had been able to rest. The strangest of things began to happen. Phasing became drastically difficult and even simple tasks such as speaking managed to render him exhausted. Terror now controlled him as he wondered how much longer his body would function without rest.

"Vision, run to the shop and grab my keys." Stark demanded casually, not even bothering to lift his gaze from his latest suit. Colonel Rhodes sat nearby, sipping a beverage while reading the paper. Neither taking notice of shivers of his skin, nor the obvious torment in his eyes. It was an easy task, there was no reason to deny him. His brain commanded him to accept, however the strangest thing occurred as his heart exploded in flames.

"I am not Jarvis Mr. Stark! No matter how much you want me to be." The two pairs of eyes fixated upon him before his mind comprehended what had just transpired. The tone was frightening, even for his brave mind. More surprising was the realization that it emanated from him. With trembling skin, he was forced to blink away the clouds interfering with his sight. Somehow, a drip of water had fallen upon his cheek, tickling the skin it explored. The emotion that had consumed him faded as he spotted the fear in their gazes. Hiding his gaze into the floor, new feelings piled upon his shoulders. With so much shame and regret, he was uncertain how he managed to whisper. "I am not your slave."

He phased through the wall, desperate to be rid of their stares. His name was called from the other side, but it only encouraged his retreat. His body did not regain normal density until he reached the rooftop.

The setting sun kissed his crimson skin, though its usual comfort was not received today. Too much emotion contorted inside him as he wiped the droplets from his eyes. Tears. The droplets were tears. Yet another revelation of his body's capabilities that did nothing to soothe the troubled mind. Below him, his name echoed through the walls. They feared him. He had become the frightening entity they so often joked he was. He had raised his voice.

Strong fingers clamped the fabric of the shirt where his heart so fiercely punished him. Something strange transpired as he gasped for air. Oxygen was not necessary for his body to survive, yet the synthetic organs suffocated him nonetheless. Terror filled him as his entire being flew out of control. It was all illogical, how then could a solution to such torment be found? He had been created to be invincible, to be unflawed. Each day that past made clear that such facts were falsities.

The hours faded, as did the sun. The desperate shouts below him had ceased not long ago, having given up on their search. Dread filled him as he came to understand that he could not return. He was weak, unbalanced, unsafe. He floated into the night, unknowing where he could linger and unknowing how he could resolve the conflict within.

* * *

Edinburgh was a lively place this night. It was pleasing to be walking amongst a crowd without their questioning stares. Boarding a plane would have been impossible had he not been able to cover his unique skin. Worst of all, he'd have led the press right to her.

Had the circumstances been different, he would have enjoyed walking in their presence as one of them. There were no shouts of surprise, no sneers nor unpleasant terms, and no fearful gazes at the strange red man. The sky clouded as it sprinkled the earth with rain. The crowd became thinner the more he walked, unknowing if it was the weather or the darkened street he'd turn to have dissuaded their presence.

He'd finally found her huddled beneath an abandoned shop. The scrap of metal above her did little to shield her from the wind or rain, growing harsher each minute. As he neared he could see that she was shivering. Her body cold from the failures of her makeshift shelter. Her eyes came upon him when he moved too closely. He found himself at the receiving end of a threatening glare.

"Can I help you?" Her words were laced with irritation, but even her strong pride could not hide the shiver of her voice.

"Wanda," he whispered. Her brow scrunched at first before lifting her head from the hard ground.

"Vision?"

* * *

The delivery man had taken far longer than anticipated, though it mattered little as Wanda's shower continued for nearly an hour. The steam began to peak underneath the door as she eagerly sought the warm water. Placing her dinner upon the counter, he sat at the table before the sound of rushing water ceased. He listened as she fumbled with the curtain, waiting patiently for the door to deliver her.

Seeing confirmation of her wellbeing relaxed him just enough to allow the string of confusion to return. She'd been close to freezing and slightly malnourished, but her body remained unharmed. She'd refrained from speech on their walk to the hotel, having been too cold to do so. Desire to speak his mind, to share with her his troubles had been placed on hold until she recovered.

The door clicked open, releasing a wave of heat before Wanda entered the room. Hands holding the sweatshirt she'd adorned herself with, she refused to meet his gaze.

"Not that I'm not thankful, but why are you here?" she asked in a low voice. Exhaustion, frustration, sorrow, mistrust. They were all traits he associated with the tone. His courage to speak began to fade. "Are you going to arrest me?"

He swallowed as the unwelcomed pain thrust its way back into his chest. The glossy appearance of her eyes only enhanced his own discomfort. A breath had attempted to sneak past him, to reveal the emotions he hid. Knowing that any result of parting his lips would end in a sob, he sealed them before shaking his head.

"Then why?" she met him as her voice broke. Tears swelled at her lids. That was when he took note of the damaged skin at her neck. Circuits racing at the memories of her torture. "You promised you'd protect me."

She choked through her sniffles as the pain in her eyes released. Shame consumed him. He had been so concerned with his own self that he had failed to understand the pain she bore. Selfish, unworthy, inhuman. He used the terms to scold himself.

"Why did you come?" the words squeaked past her lips. The voice barely understandable through so much pain. He pressed against the weight in his heart as it begged for release.

"I wanted to…" he halted the truth that had been so desperate to present itself. Fiercely berating the loss of control. _Can you not see her pain?_ With eyes hidden in the floor, he shook his head. "I do not know."

* * *

He forced himself to endure her cries. He had caused them. Standing at the wall that separated their rooms, his fists clenched tightly against the hard surface. The room was dark, telling himself that he was unworthy for the light. His mind reeled with so many desires, from confessing his struggles to wrapping his own arms around her in a comforting warmth. Though he could not fool himself, knowing that the touch he so desired would be for his own benefit instead of hers. His brow scrunched as he felt sickened by the realization.

Time slowly took her sobs away until finally he was certain her mind offered rest. The ache, the dreaded ache expanded each passing moment. It only provoked his fear. He thought Wanda could help him, that earning her forgiveness would grant him relief. However, it seemed his foolish mind had hoped for too much.

_Would he ever free of this pain?_

Fingers twisting in the shirt above his heart, his legs gave way beneath him. _What is happening?_ His exhausted mind swirled into an uncontainable panic. He sucked down a breath, resulting in the notion of suffocating. Nothing made sense, nothing would save him. He would endure this suffering until the end. Strange sounds emerged as he struggled to contain what could only be described as a sob. He was not human. He wasn't supposed to cry; he wasn't supposed to feel. So why then did he?

His vision erupted in scarlet as the memories were pulled from him. In a haze of red, he watched himself struggle to reveal his confession to Wanda before finally concluding with the knowledge he'd held all along, he could trust her. He told her his fears, that the stone's mystery troubled him deeply. He trusted her to value his secret. He then watched her betray that trust. He watched himself sit at the crater, watching her flee his presence. He watched the officers drag her away. Tony and Rhodey's coldness, their jokes and their shouts. The sulking form upon her bed, transmitting the codes to grant her freedom. His outburst when he'd finally had too much. He felt it all once more as each and every sting seeped into the scarlet tint. However, the mist abandoned him as quickly as it had encompassed him.

"Let it out." A voice commanded before he shook his head. His tired mind couldn't comprehend how she managed to break into his room. All he could understand was the comfort of a small hand that fell upon his hands and the other at his neck, mixed with the unbearable emotions drowning him in the flood.

"Why does it hurt?" he failed to suppress a sob.

"It's okay," His head was pulled to rest against her chest, her chin resting against the hair he projected. "It's going to be okay. Just let it out."

He, with no will or strength to deny her, obeyed the demands and released the agony he'd fought so hard to contain. A part of him was aware that it was foolish for a being like him to succumb to such weakness, but after freeing the first wave of sobs he found it impossible to halt the flood. An array of thoughts poured out as he thoughts wrapped around his mind.

_Mr. Stark does not care, Colonel Rhodes does not care. No one cares for his emotions._

"I care," an angel whispered into his ear. He was uncertain how much time had passed that she held him. All his mind could process was the exhaustion that replaced his torment. Warm fingers caressed his cheek, delivering sweet trails of relief against his skin. He didn't deserve it. He did not deserve such a sacred touch.

"Shh. Don't think that way," the demand made it clear that she was still in his head. The grip tightened, surrounding him with security. As the strokes returned and a warm pair of lips pressed against his forehead, his mind slipped as his brain evaded rest no longer.

"I'm sorry." The voice whispered. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

 **A/N -** I am dyslexic, so if anyone notices goofy or missing words, I truly do not mind you bringing it to my attention. I read these stories a handful of times before publishing as an attempt to avoid them slipping through, but I know it happens and I actually prefer the feedback so the story can be better.


	2. Relief

_Updated 3/1/19_

* * *

 

Birds chirping and a warm light against his cheek were the first indicators that daylight had arrived at last. He was astounded at the length of time that he had rested, possessing an entirely new sense of peace. With his body and mind restored, the weight on his heart lifted. For the first time in over a month, he felt rejuvenated.

He did not recall lying down, nor acquiring a pillow to do so. Under normal circumstance he would remain upright when turning his mind to rest. It was practical, with his body ready defend himself if someone took advantage of the vulnerable state. However, he found that he did not mind the position and the comfort it granted.

“Maybe you should try a mattress sometime.”

His eyes burst open as soft fingertips grazed his neck. Coming to realize that the warm pillow he laid upon was in fact Wanda’s lap. Shame overwhelmed him as he recalled the night’s events and embarrassment flooded his circuits.

“Stop it,” she grumbled. “You have nothing to be embarrassed by.”

He disagreed, though said nothing as he slowly lifted himself from her lap. His eyes remained fixated upon the carpet, unwilling to meet her gaze.

“I thought that you had vowed to avoid the minds of others?” he whispered in humiliation. Beginning to understand a human’s desire to privacy.

“You once told me that you didn’t mind me looking,” she retorted as he felt the brim of scarlet retreating from his mind. Guilt immediately forced his apology.

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” He nodded. “I simply feel odd. The emotions, they are all so strange. There were too many.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It is not proper,” he shook his head before glancing at the marks on her neck. “You have suffered worst.”

Her fingers moved to trace the scar before masking her sorrow with a smirk. “I’m fine. It’s nothing compared to Hydra’s work.”

“That does not bring me comfort,” he whispered.

“I was tired, cold, and hungry last night.” She shrugged with a smile. “I was upset. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. You, you’re the one who needs attention.”

“Wanda, my condition has improved. I do not need to trouble you…”

“That’s not what I felt,” she glared. “You know what I’ve been through. I know better than anyone else how dangerous the heart can be. I can help you, Vision. Talk to me, please?”

He prepared himself to deny the request. The pain that had burdened him only a night before had faded greatly from his slumber, and he no longer believed that he required assistance. With a clear mind, it all seemed so silly.

Her hand covered his, blanketing his knuckles with a surprising warmth. Staring at her fingers as they kissed the skin it traced, he recalled the desperation that drove him hundreds of miles simply to speak with her. Remembering the faces of the two men that stared at him in fright. It took only a moment sorting through his memories before he forced his nod.

“They are afraid of me,” he admitted softly. “I raised my voice to my friends… I cannot go back. I do not know where I belong.”

“Vis,” she sighed. “They weren’t afraid of you, they were afraid _for_ you.”

“I do not understand.” His head tilted slightly. She dodged his gaze, appearing nervous to deliver her wisdom.

“I don’t think they understood your capabilities of emotion,” she whispered shyly. “They thought you were invincible. You’re always so good at hiding your feelings, sometimes it’s difficult to remember that you’re no different from them. When they saw you that night, they were worried about you. And probably quite guilty.”

His eyes widened at the comment, while his back stiffened. “I did not mean to cause them to feel such a way. I must inform them…”

“Vis, they deserved it.” Her eyes rolled. “You need to think of yourself for once.”

“But it is my duty to help others,” his countered.

“You can’t help others if you can’t help yourself. You’re not invincible, Vis. You can’t keep everything bottled up inside.” Her eyes filled with sorrow. “If you do, well, let’s just say it’s what drove my brother and I into Hydra’s arms.”

“I made attempts…” he trailed off as he hid his gaze from her. Recalling the subtle moments where he had sought Mr. Stark’s guidance. As difficult as it was to recall, only a night prior Wanda herself had failed to allow him the chance to speak. From the edge of his eye he could see that she acted similarly before once again tracing gentle fingertips along his hand. The touch sent a shiver up his arm and the sensation perplexed him. It was unlike the shudders that consumed him when he had felt too much. He was free from pain and he was rested. Why then did his body protest?

“I don’t think it will happen again,” she met his eyes. “As much as I like the idea of Tony sulking around in his guilt, I think you should go talk to him.”

“I do not like that image,” he admitted quietly.

“I know,” she chuckled. “You love Tony.”

His head tilted at the comment, uncertain that he was qualified to be associated with such a term. His admiration for Stark had been acquired from Jarvis. But love? Certainly she was mistaken.

“Come on,” she stood, pulling his arm to follow. “We’ll talk over breakfast. Then, we’ll find you a plane.”

* * *

His skin shivered with fear as he placed his palm upon the handle of the Avenger’s facility. He had only been absent for a few days, but the memories of his outburst prodded his sanity. In Wanda’s presence, he had been so certain that she spoke truthfully. That he should indeed return to his creator and face any consequences he had earned. Yet, the moment they parted at the airport, the terrifying sensation of his stomach growing heavy spread with every moment passing.

Opening the door, he finally stepped into the familiar halls of the Compound. It was quiet, much unlike the days before the Accords or even before his abrupt departure. Men would crowd the building, renovating the space that had been destroyed. Now, however, the halls were filled with nothing more than a disturbing silence. He moved forward, searching for life. When he finally encountered another pair of footsteps, he was met with someone that he never imagined to lay eyes upon again.

“Excuse me, you can’t just walk in here like that!” The woman’s pace quickened as her gaze locked to his form. “This is private property!”

“Miss Potts?” a smile overcame him. She halted at the sound of her name and with a tilt of her head, her eyes widened with recognition.

“Vision?! How are you… you look, human.” Her eyes scanned his body.

“Oh yes,” he glanced at his pale hands. “I have projected this disguise so that I may go unnoticed amongst the public.”

“You look, never mind,” she cleared her throat as a blush coated her cheeks. Her interest in his cover appeared to vanish instantly as she wrapped her arms around him. He flinched at the contact. He had witnessed the action performed before, even been on the receiving end of Wanda’s quick embrace. Yet, no other human had believed it appropriate to involve him in the strange act. She pulled away before allowing him the time to process what to do with his hands. “We’ve been worried about you, sweetie.”

“I do not understand. I have proven my capabilities to protect myself. Any concern for my wellbeing would be unnecessary.”

“I missed you too,” she simply smiled and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go find Tony. He’s been looking for you ever since you left.”

“I did not intend to cause trouble,” he apologized. She responded with more contact, placing a hand of comfort at his back.

“It’s okay, Vision. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

As he had done so often as of late, he kept his disagreements to himself. Knowing that the blame of far too much chaos rested upon his shoulders. She began to lead him through the compound while he watched her in great curiosity.

“Miss Potts. Might I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Mr. Stark had informed me that your courtship was terminated, that we would no longer receive your visits. Has this factor changed?” he asked, hopeful. Similar to Jarvis’ acquired care for Tony, he had equally come to enjoy the company of his counterpart. Their decision to separate had affected him deeper than either human would ever know.

“Oh, well, um,” her face reddened at the question. “No, I was just here to help. Tony called after you disappeared, asking if you had come to see me. I’ve been helping him search for you.”

“I am sorry,” he lowered his gaze once more.

“I already told you, you don’t need to apologize.” She stated more firmly this time. “Tony told me what happened, how he’s been treating you. The only apology I hear today had better come from him.”

He opened his mouth to argue, however, based on the escalation of her temper he benched any-and-all words against her. Instead, he offered a small smile.

“I have missed your presence, Miss Potts.” He admitted, hoping she would make the effort to visit more frequently.

“I missed you too, sweetie,” she returned the smile. They found Tony in his lab, surrounded by an assortment of monitors and maps. His eyes had darkened from restless nights. Colonel Rhodes sat nearby, looking no better. A stab of guilt sliced its way into his chest as he began to comprehend that their condition was likely a result of his actions.

“Are you seriously bringing your new boyfriend around here to make me jealous?” Tony narrowed his gaze, however the tone suggested that it was merely a jest. “It’s working.”

“Tony,” she rolled her eyes before returning her gaze to him. “He’s all yours.”

The moment she left his side, his confidence wavered once more.

“Rhodes, toss me the pen.” Stark returned his attention to his work. While he gazed around at scattered maps and monitors of facial scanning software, it took a moment to comprehend the reasoning for such tools. “Hey blondie, what do you want? Make it quick before I throw you out.”

“Mr. Stark,” he finally spoke, earning their questioning gazes. Both hearing the familiar voice, yet troubled by the strange appearance. Disturbed by their frustrated expressions, he hid his gaze to the floor before recalling the pale cover.

“Vision?” The Colonel was the first to respond to the sight of his crimson skin. Risking a glance at the men, he found both their postures stiffen while their eyes remained wide. He shrunk from them, noticing that the stares shared the appearance of those that he abandoned in a panic just days ago. Recalling the events, the fright built up inside him.

“I am sorry for my behavior.” Ironically, attention had been his initial desire. For one of the men to spare just a single glance to take notice of the pain he had masked. Yet now, he wanted nothing more than to hide from their gazes. “I should not have…”

“It’s okay,” Stark interrupted. His shock turned to relief as he tossed the pen aside. Gazing at the array of maps in his midst. “You’re, um, a hard guy to find.”

“I learned to disguise myself,” he explained.

“Yeah, I see that.” The man cleared his throat in discomfort. Looking everywhere but upon him. “So, you can feel… stuff?”

“Of course, my body is equipped with nerve endings…”

“Yup, not what I meant. Emotions, Vision, you can feel emotions. Yes?” Stark’s brow raised in question. Vision glanced between the two before nodding. “How long?”

“Since the beginning.” He thought the question was strange. Though he hadn’t understood the emotions, they had always been there. Why would they not?

“You scared the Hell out of us,” he smirked.

“Nope,” Colonel shook his head. “That’s not what you wanted to say.”

“You owe one too, you know.” Tony bickered to his friend.

“Hang on, let me record this,” he fumbled for his phone. “The great Tony Stark, showing some humility.”

“Rhodes…” Tony sighed before finally meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry Vision.”

“We both are,” Rhodes added.

He prepared to shake his head, to deny the claim that they owed him anything. Instead, his foolish heart blurted his gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Where did you go?” Stark asked.

“I… I went… I do not wish…” He struggled with his speech, stumbling over each word. Panic that he’d be forced to reveal Wanda’s status overwhelmed his crowded chest.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Stark’s hands raised defensively, as if he feared another outburst. “You don’t have to tell us.”

“Please, I do not wish for you to do that,” he responded immediately. Though grateful that the man did not press further, he was disturbed by the thought of his creator fearing him. “I had a moment of weakness, but I will not fail again. I do not wish to be treated as that of a child.”

Tony studied him for a moment. Silence encompassed the room as they took in his words.

“How about we treat you like a friend?” Rhodey finally suggested.

“I would find that agreeable,” he answered quietly. Managing a weak attempt to mask his joy at the deal they had struck.

“Great, well now that you’re home, we have a lot of catching up to do.” Stark began tossing the maps into a trash bin. “New prototypes have been put on hold, Rhodey’s brace needs some updates, renovations being made. You want to help?”

It took a moment for him to realize that the request had been for him. Not a simple request that could be handled by a mindless machine, but a request of value. “Yes, I would enjoy that.”

* * *

“Vision, come on man it’s starting,” Colonel shouted from the couch. Vision entered the room, seeking his task. The man sprawled on the sofa with a large bowl of buttered food in his lap. Meeting his gaze in question, the Colonel pointed to the screen. “Movie night.”

He tensed for a moment, frightened that he would be forced to endure another viewing of “Terminator”. A horrid series depicting the human’s imagination of his own being. The group had encouraged its viewing once before, and he recalled Wanda’s ferocity upon discovering their proposal. He had viewed it later on his own accord, when the curiosity became too great. The connotations of the film’s relevance to his own being had not sunk in for a number of days, but when they finally did the pressure in his chest had been unbearable. It had been Wanda who rejected his findings, ensuring him that the world did not fear him. Until recently, he had given little thought to his unsavory research. Thankfully, the title that appeared did not match that of which he dreaded.

“Star Wars again? Rhodes, you have an obsession.” Tony rolled his eyes at the screen.

“Best movie of our time,” the Colonel spoke over him.

“Highly debatable.” The man sneered before rising to his feet.

“Where you going? It just started?”

“I’ve got a meeting with Pepper,” Tony replied casually. “Business as usual.”

“Uh-huh, business,” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Just try not to get her too riled up, would you? I thought she was going to burn down the building when you told her you lost Vision.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll just be a second.”

Vision tensed at the statement, but said nothing. Instead, the two sat in silence as they watched their movie. About halfway through he could not help but notice Stark’s continued absence, but his concern was stolen by the man nearby. Wearing a pained expression, the Colonel shifted his position frequently.

“Colonel, are you alright?”

“Vision, how many times do I have to tell you. Call me Rhodes.” He grunted before reaching for his medication. “My back is killing me, can you grab me some water?”

“Certainly,” he lifted himself off the couch before grasping the empty glass.

As he neared the kitchen, he halted upon noticing the pair standing within the dimly lit room. Caught in an embrace, Mr. Stark swayed slowly with Miss Potts. He was confused by the lack of music, having associated it as the primary factor for such a display. Regardless, they remained there in a silent dance. He knew it was wrong to stare, to invade in their private moment, but the most peculiar thing occurred as he watched. He became entranced by the unique tenderness he had rarely witnessed Stark display before. Miss Potts smiled into his shoulder, chuckling softly at something he’d whispered. Tony kissed the ear that he had gifted with words meant only for her, before she turned to meet his gaze.

As he watched, a great pressure grew within his chest.

Longing. He explored the traits associated with the term, applying them to the current moment. At face value, it appeared to be a match. However, logically, he did not understand. He was not human. He had known that he would never partake in such an activity, and he understood that it was foolish to allow any desire for what he could not have to exist. And yet, the emotion burdened him anyway.

An image forced itself into his mind, one of his own body in such a predicament. In his hand clasped another’s, while the other held her small waist. Her eyes bestowed upon him a focused gaze, endowing him the most gracious opportunity to study the depths of her pupils. Brunette hair curled around her neck, blanketing her shoulders in the most adoring way. Lost in the dream, it took a moment to recognize the woman he conjured before him.

Snapping from his daze, shame quickly consumed him. Terrified that even being miles apart, Wanda would be able to sneak upon her own image that was stolen by his mind. His fright nearly caused him to drop the glass he held, as he continued to fret over what felt like an invasion of her privacy.

“I can’t do this.” He heard a whisper. Glancing back at the pair, Miss Potts pulled away with tears in her eyes.

“No, please,” Tony attempted to hold her with a gentle grip. “Don’t go. We can talk this out, we can…”

She mumbled multiple apologies through quiet cries, before abandoning the man to the dark. Mr. Stark stared after her, sighing before rubbing his eyes with his fingers. The man was hurting, that much was obvious. Yet as he searched the depths of his mind, no solution presented itself. He watched his creator leave with sorrow in his eyes, staring after him with a troubled heart.

* * *

“Try this one,” Tony threw yet another shirt in his direction.

“Mr. Stark, I do not understand.” He stared at the pile of clothes in his arms. “I do not require clothing, I can simply craft my own.”

“Just put it on or we’ll be here all day.” Mr. Hogan replied grumpily.

“No offense Vision, but you dress like an eighty-year old accountant. Time to change your wardrobe.” Tony replied as he searched another rack of clothes.

“It seems like a waste of resources,” he pressed once more.

“Oh, look at that,” Tony held up a shirt with a printed logo upon it. “You can be an Avenger. I don’t recall authorizing this use of our logo.”

“Are you serious? You signed off without even reading the contract,” Happy rolled his eyes.

Tony tossed the shirt at him. Coming to understand that he fought a losing battle, he used the designated room to dress himself with each item as instructed. He did not enjoy the way the clothes restrained his movements, nearly ripping the seams countless times. However, he found that the soft structure of the material did feel pleasant against his skin.

By the time they had left the store, Tony ordered him to carry a large bag of items meant to fit him. He explained the proper protocol of switching outfits each day. Happy guided them back to the car, taking the bags from his arms to secure them in the back before he could offer to do so himself.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tony shuffled through a stack of envelopes as they took their seats, handing a section of them over to him. He accepted them with a questioning gaze. “These just came in. Birth certificate, driver’s license, passport. All the good stuff.”

His eyes observed the papers. “These are mine?”

“No, I’m carrying around Hogan’s identifications.” The man rolled his eyes. “Of course their yours.”

“How did you secure such documents?” He asked before parting the first envelope. Inside, was a small card containing an image of his disguise.

“Why did you think I took those photos?” Tony shrugged before smirking. “I like you and all, but I’d rather not carry a wallet of your face around. Might raise questions.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he stated in a sincere voice. Thinking of all the benefits such papers could bring. Particularly the thrill of boarding a plane properly, without sneaking onto the storage dock. Glancing more carefully at the documents, he raised his brow in question. “Victor Shade?”

“Well, Vision Stark is a bit too obvious, isn’t it? I thought the point of your cover was disguise yourself.” Tony explained.

“I possess a last name?” he tilted his head. “How have I come to inherit yours?”

“Well, since I am the primary source of your creation, I get to choose your last name.” The man stated simply before glancing at his phone, ending the conversation. “So, Ross has been on my case about the whole break-out thing. I can only ignore him for so long.”

“He expects you to find them.” He noted aloud.

“He expects _you_ to find them,” Tony corrected.

His head snapped to him in an instant, a spark of fright shooting through his veins.

“I cannot,” he stuttered. “I will not deliver them…”

“Calm down,” Tony silenced him with a smirk. “I just need you to make appearances near some of his leads. Make some reports, all that jazz.”

“You wish for me to lie?”

“It’s either that or throw everyone back in prison. Your choice.” He shrugged.

“What if I am come across them?” he asked, knowing full well the current whereabouts of each member.

“Call them an asshole and be on your way.” Tony attempted to joke, but Vision could hear the distain in his tone. The man clearly continued to harbor distrust towards his former companions.

“I would prefer to refrain from such language,” he admitted while shifting uncomfortably, eliciting a laugh from the man beside him. A silence fell upon them for some time. Watching the trees and shops as they passed by, a comment slipped through his lips without thought. “I miss them.”

Tony paused from his work on the device, meeting his eyes for just a moment. The man appeared to analyze the words, watching him with calculating eyes before finally sighing. “Me too.”

* * *

He sat upon a bench in the park, overjoyed by the freedom of going unnoticed by the people that roamed there. Tony had warned him about the ramifications of staring at people, so he limited the number of seconds that he allowed his gaze to linger. There were little ones, children, reveling in the joys of fresh air filling their lungs. Mothers smiled nearby, while fathers tossed a spherical toy back and forth from their bearing.

Family. It was a beautiful concept, yet one that had come to trouble him lately. Having been formed in a womb of metal he had not earned the rights as one’s son, nor one’s brother. His body, undoubtedly incapable of creating life would deny him status as a father. More undeniably, there would be no woman capable of accepting his hand. His strange hand. The unique birth denied him a title and he would never experience such pleasantries.

He was uncertain as to why such thoughts had begun to taunt him. Tony, along with Colonel Rhodes, had adjusted their treatment since his outburst nearly two weeks ago. There should be no further reason for the dreaded weight in his chest to exist. Yet, as he sat upon his bench watching them revel in their lives, all unaware of the grand gift they possessed, an incredible melancholy overcame him. It became routine to sit upon that bench, hoping the desire would soon grow old. To his dismay, relief only continued to evade him.

His brain, so full of intellect that far surpassed the greatest of minds on the planet, did nothing to soothe his aching parts. The sensible part of him knew it was foolish to dwell there day by day, watching the pairs of humans cling to each other’s arms. At the center of his chest, however, existed a different entity. It held great power over his logic and despite his greatest attempts, he could not fight against the visions it placed within his mind.

Images of him strolling amidst the park, his arm linked with another’s. She would smile as they walked, sharing casual words in a blissful setting. Each time his mind drifted to the scenario, it formed a new addition to his imagination. Simulating a squeeze of her fingers upon his, a sweet laugh at something he’d spoke, a kiss at his cheek…

He shook his head at the image, once more ashamed at his loss of control. He glanced at the phone number he had been given. Wanda had asked him to contact her immediately after resolving his problems with Tony, though he had resisted having feared that the contact would reveal her location. Yet now, gazing at the digits, he could hardly restrain himself from beginning their conversation. Logic prevailed for what seemed like the first time in a great while as he closed the screen. He let his head fall into his hands, irritated by his lack of control over such simple things.

The imagery always seemed to return. He would succeed in dismissing them only for a short time, but his mind always seemed to crawl back to her. To the slightest touch at his hand that she’d used to comfort him. To the way her eyes looked upon him as an equal, truly an equal. To the way her arms held him so securely when he had broken, and the sensation of her lips against his forehead while his mind slipped into slumber. At the time, the moments seemed like nothing. Just simple fleeting moments of comfort, yet now he wrestled his memory to relay the sensations once more.

He forced himself to his feet, banishing the desires once more and threatening them from returning. However, he knew the attempt was worthless. Knowing that tomorrow he would end up in the same location, with the same longing, and the same loneliness that had begun to plague him each night.

* * *

His finger lingered at the door bell while uncertainty gnawed at his mind. Yet, now that he stood at the doorstep it felt even more foolish to turn back rather than proceed. He pressed the button and waited for his greeting. When the door finally opened, the face he’d been met with was foreign.

“Can I help you?” The woman practically glared at him.

“Hello, I am here to see Miss Potts,” he responded politely.

“Is she expecting you?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Mother, who’s at the door?” Miss Potts asked before widening the gap to see him. “Vision? What are you doing here?”

She opened the door, ignoring the fiery glare of the other woman. Gesturing for him to enter, he gazed between them before stepping across the threshold.

“Is Tony okay?” Her expression twisted in concern.

“Of course,” he answered.

“Why did he send you over?” She pressed.

“He did not, I have come on my own accord.”

“Oh,” her shoulders relaxed but her eyes remained curious before turning to her mother. “Mom, give us a minute?”

The woman appeared offended at the proposition, but offered one final glare before departing from their sight. Guiding him to the living room, he fell into the comfort of the couch.

“Don’t mind her, she just misses Tony,” she explained before taking a seat across from him. He opened his mouth to ask why his presence would correlate with Mr. Stark’s, but Miss Potts interrupted before he was offered the chance. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” he glanced to her in question. “What causes you to believe otherwise?”

“You’ve never come to visit me before,” she raised her brow.

“Oh, yes. I simply have questions,” he stopped for a moment. Examining the consequences of seeking her advice once more. “I did not think it wise to burden Mr. Stark with them.”

She smiled at his statement, suppressing laughter. He sensed the reason she opened her mouth was to explain a flaw in his statement, however she swallowed whatever words she had intended to speak. Instead she offered her attention with encouraging eyes.

“Do you love Mr. Stark?” He asked.

Her gaze turned from friendly to shock to aggressive within an instant. “Did Tony send you here?”

“No, please,” panic swelled inside him. “I would prefer that he remain unaware of my visit. I fear that he would not understand my inquiries. I thought perhaps that you might. He is also  bound by the Accords to place duty before all else.”

He stopped himself, realizing that such information was unnecessary to share with the woman. It would only raise further questions to answers he could not share. He had to keep _her_ safe. Miss Potts’ eyes remained suspicious but softened slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“I simply desired to know if, if I might be able,” he stumbled for a moment. He had rehearsed the conversation and could not understand what made his vocabulary so difficult. He took a breath, hoping to calm his nerves. Meeting her gaze, he blurted simply. “What is it like?”

She appeared taken aback by the question. Gazing at him with the strangest of expressions. There was a smile, though it was mixed with a mischievous gaze as she examined him. Letting out a final smirk, she expressed her experience with the emotion. He listened, his heart tumbling at the beauty of her words. Her description ranging from a stomach filled with butterflies (a strange concept he thought) to wanting to care for Tony even when he, ‘drove her insane’.

Memories that could only be from Jarvis filled his heart. Memories of an exasperated Miss Potts and a flustered Tony, ending their long day in an affectionate embrace. No matter how trying their relationship became, it always ended in resolution.

“Why the sudden curiosity?” She asked when she finished.

“I was simply researching the…”

“Who is she?” She interrupted.

“I do not know what you mean,” he attempted to evade her question.

“The girl that’s making you think about love,” she chuckled. “Who is she?”

He stuttered as he failed to find a suitable response. Having expected the question to arise, he knew that he should have been more prepared. Yet, he found no help from his intellect. “It is of no matter. I am not human.”

Her smile fell into a frown. “What do you mean?”

He opened his mouth to speak, delivering the words that he knew were right in his mind. That he was unworthy of human affection at such a level, that his synthetic heart was no gift to any other, and that his entire being was far too incompatible. This was all common knowledge, though he found it difficult to speak the words aloud. His chest constricted with discomfort as if only just realizing the weight of such knowledge. He stared at his hands, coated in white skin to mask his distinct appearance. Briefly retracting the cover, he gazed at the ruby skin. His heart grew unbearably heavy as he finally answered. “She could never possess such an emotion for me.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” A hand clasped one of his own. Expecting his body to react as it had when Wanda offered him the same touch, he was surprised when he was not troubled with shivers. The contact offered comfort, though it appeared vastly different. Perhaps Wanda used her powers when she touched him, to ignite his heart with unique sensations. However, why she would bother to bewitch him in such a way was beyond his understanding. “You are more human than most men on this planet. Whoever she is, she’s lucky to catch your attention.”

Beginning to shake his head, he stopped himself from arguing. Her words were kind, but the facts remained untouched. He became irritated with himself. Knowing that the outcome of his emotions would remain unchanged, he was uncertain why only now had his mind realized the visit was folly. Embarrassment cursed him, discouraging further questions he had intended to ask.

“Miss Potts,” he finally managed to speak. “Could this conversation remain between the two of us?”

“Of course,” she promised. “Though I strongly suggest you talk to this girl.”

“I am not certain that I should,” he replied before remembering that he’d vowed to silence the conversation. Her curious gaze demanding explanation. “Any attempt to contact her could endanger her freedom.”

“Endanger her freedom? What do you… Oh.” Realization appeared to overwhelm her, while fear overwhelmed him. _What had he done?_

“No, I, you misunderstand,” he stumbled over his words. Visions erupted in the back of his mind: of Secretary Ross forcing him into cuffs that could not contain him, before forcing him to betray those he cared for. He’d have no choice but to fight. He would become a criminal.

“Relax, Vision. Your secret’s safe with me.” She simply smiled. The words did not immediately relax him as he debated the debts of which he could trust her. However, as she met his gaze with genuine eyes, he recalled why he entrusted her with such a conversation in the first place. He nodded in gratitude before her eyes fell into the floor. “How is he? Tony?”

He nearly sighed in relief at the change in subject, composing himself before answering. “Outwardly, he appears normal. However, I fear that he wears a mask.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked quietly.

“He is different than I remember. I had thought that his melancholy was a result of Colonel Rhodes’ injury, however I no longer believe that to be true. The Colonel has overcome his disability, and yet Mr. Stark remains unhappy.” He watched her, studying her reaction. Not wanting to hinder whatever affections she still held for his creator, yet at the same time desiring nothing more than to have her presence at the Compound once more. “I believe he suffers as I do. I believe he misses that of which he has lost.”

She sighed at his words, looking everywhere but upon him. A mixture of emotions that he failed to understand scattered across her features. Finally, she allowed the softest whisper. “I know.”

She nodded before removing a quiet tear. He stood from the couch, ready to dismiss himself from the home. Before whispering a soft goodbye, she pulled him into her arms once again. He smiled against her hold, thankful to be more prepared for her hug. Before stepping across the door she encouraged him one last time to contact _her_. He hardly made it to the sidewalk before retrieving his phone; pulling up the number he’d so frequently avoided. Whether it be bravery or foolish hope, he finally pressed send.


	3. Love

Neurons fired uncontrollably, causing every inch of his being to tingle. Uncertain whether its cause stemmed from the knowledge that he was deliberately disobeying an order from the Secretary of State, or the simple fact that he had not seen Wanda in nearly a month. At no moment in his short life had he been parted from her for such a length of time. She had anchored him to humans, fueling his desire to be among them; to be one of them. Time had been strange without her, and as deeply as it frustrated him that he had failed to adapt to her absence, he was grateful for her eagerness to welcome him back into her life.

As he stepped onto the platform of the airport he became unnerved by the number of security cameras; seemingly lurking just for him. With every step, he reminded himself that his fears were unnecessary. Only those he could trust possessed the knowledge of his unique abilities to disguise the unnatural hue of his body, yet the logic did nothing to calm his anxious mind.

She was waiting for him, just as she had promised. Her eyes fixated upon a screen that flashed a reminder of the task he’d been assigned. The headline scrolled across the image, “The Vision assigned to track down the world’s top criminals.” A pain swelled inside of him at the sight of his label. _The Vision_. As if he were no more than a machine sent to obey its master without educational thought. The mixture of fear and sorrow berating his sanity did nothing to quell his anxiety. However, as she turned to meet him a sudden calm forced the dreaded emotions to rest.

“I heard you were looking for me,” she smirked. “It’s all over the news.”

“Actually, I have been assigned to collect all escaped convicts,” he corrected, causing her to shake her head with a chuckle.

“You’re visiting one of those convicts. I am no expert in Politics, but I believe that makes you a felon.” He swallowed deeply at her comment. Her jest was a swift reminder of the outcome of his decisions. By all technical means, he was indeed a criminal. His actions went against all that he was created for; against all logic. Such nagging thoughts lingered at the back of his mind, gripping him with fear whenever it suited. It aggravated him beyond all reasoning, that these emotions could fly so easily out if his control. Yet, even with all his attempts and trials he had yet to find a suitable solution.

Oblivious to his turmoil, Wanda’s arms moved to surround him. By nature, he tensed at the contact; not yet used to the strange displays. However, unlike previous moments, he molded into her hold. Taking care to memorize the heat of her body so near to his, the sensation of the fabric of her shirt at his fingertips, and the texture of her hair against his cheek. He commanded his brain to remember it all in fear that it might be the last gift she’d offer him.

“I have missed you,” his mouth blurted without permission. The words only seemed to encourage a tighter grip at his shoulders.

“Me too,” she admitted. Pulling away from him, she smiled. “So, what shall we do first?”

 

* * *

 

He had yet to gain the proper understanding as to why his companions found enjoyment in fitting his body with clothes; a body fully capable of covering itself. She insisted that it would help him in “blending in” as she called it. Yet, it was impractical, illogical, and other countless terms his mind could conjure against such a wasteful task. Yet, his cooperation seemed to encourage Wanda’s smile as she held up each shirt to gauge its fit. He quickly resolved to accept this as a suitable reason for participation. He followed her everywhere, doing all that she asked.

“How about this one?” She asked.

Having given up all attempts to argue his point, he simply nodded in response. She smiled at his compliance, wrapping the clothing around her arm to purchase. Occasionally, she encountered a piece for herself and sought his opinion of its appearance on her. He, of course, encouraged such purchases.

He had not given proper thought to what activities they could partake in when their paths crossed once again. He had not expected this. He gaged the expression of another couple. With their hands adorned in ceremonial rings, he understood them to be married. The husband’s eyes glossed over in boredom as the man no doubt shared his opinions. However, even if they were to navigate every shop in Edinburgh, he stumbled upon the discovery that it did not matter. She was here, she was at his side; something that had become forbidden since their incident at the airport so long ago. He would not forsake their moments together.

Wanda moved to a section of jewelry, testing various metals at her fingers.

“What is their purpose?” He asked absentmindedly, grasping a ring to examine it closely.

“Most people wear them as part of their outfit,” she shrugged.

“You adorn yourself with many,” he glanced at the array of jewelry at her hands. She followed his gaze, stretching the fingers to view them at different angles.

“Yes,” she twisted one around her finger, smiling as she sorted through memory. “It started with this one. My mother gave it to me the week before she died. I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep.”

Smirking at the thought, her eyes became distant as she grew lost to her own mind. “How I wish my nightmares could return to silly monsters under my bed.”

Lips curving downward, she sighed before continuing.

“She gave me this ring and told me to keep it on me at all times. That it was precious armor and it would keep me safe.”

“Their size does little to offer protection.” he pointed before wondering if it was best to keep such observations to himself.

“It’s just something parents say for their kids,” she explained. “When she died while I lived, I blamed myself for so long, believing I had taken her shield from her. I could never bring myself to tell Pietro that it was my fault.

I stole these others while we were on our own, holding onto her story. Knowing that I shouldn’t be alive, yet somehow I always endured. There were so many times I thought I’d lose myself, especially during Hydra’s experiments. Yet, somehow, I always survived.”

“You believe her tale?” he asked in surprise. Offending her had not been his intention, yet the sorrow in her gaze filled him with regret.

“I like to think that she’s still with me,” she explained quietly, stretching her fingers as she spoke. “That they keep her close. I know it sounds foolish.”

“It brings you comfort,” he pressed against his wisdom. It defied all intellect to indulge in such fairytales. He knew this to be true. And yet, the force of his heart had managed to become far stronger than the will of his mind. The truth would hurt her and no small amount of metal at her finger would shield her from that pain. Burying the logic, he met her eyes to relay his sincerity. “Such a fact cannot be foolish.”

A shrug of her shoulder ended the conversation, but he could in see her eyes that his words had brought comfort. Turning her attention to the next shelf she grasped an item to busy herself.

“I used to do this with my brother,” she spoke absentmindedly. “We’d go from shop to shop, trying on outfits we could never afford. Yet we still managed to have a good time.”

He all but flinched from the sudden pain that struck at the core of his chest. His body grew heavy upon realizing her true emotions. Embarrassment froze his heart as the foolish fantasies his mind had presented shattered in an instant. It continued to amaze him, how such a small line uttered through gentle lips could wreak such havoc. Amazement, yes, that was the proper term, though mixed with devastation as he came to understand that his companionship was merely a replacement for her brother. He had been betrayed by his own heart; it being responsible for having placed such false beliefs in his mind. Embarrassment and shame both battled for dominion over his emotions, in a war that would result in nothing more than his own defeat.

A brother. The term should comfort him. For finally, a human believed he was worthy of such a title. Yet, there was also the harsh awareness that a brother’s love was severely limited.

“You okay?”

Meeting her gaze, he realized that she had stopped her task and that he had been staring. He nodded quickly, pretending to take interest in a selection of gems and hoped that she would not press further. He encouraged her to the register, purchasing the items she’d selected.

Together, they walked amongst the streets while he listened to the tales and light conversation she had to offer. He gathered that she’d been lonely, lacking the company of true friends. Disappointment in Captain Rogers and his team crowded at the back of his mind for not offering the attention she desired. Yet, the overbearing pain of rejection continued to drown all other thoughts.

“Look at this.” He could practically sense her smile. Stepping beside her, he glanced at a tapestry that captured her admiration. It was a simple art, though even he could not deny its beauty. “This was handmade. That’s incredible!”

“It is quite beautiful,” he admired. Tracing the intricate embroidery with his finger.

“You understand a concept like beauty?” she smirked. He sensed her intention was to jest, yet he answered honestly anyways.

“Of course. It was among the first revelations that my mind comprehended as I awoke from the cradle.”

“That makes no sense,” her brow tensed as she analyzed his statement. “We were in Stark’s lab. Hardly a place of beauty.”

“You forget where my eyes fell first.” He spoke without thought as he traced another line of stitching. The artwork continued its grasp on his attention, as he contemplated the work of small fingers creating such detail. Amazement at one human’s achievement captured him deeply, so much so that he hardly noticed the scarlet tint gnawing at his mind. He quickly turned his attention to Wanda, fearing her displeasure at his distraction. “You have forgotten?”

“I remember.” She wore a strange expression, one that he so frustratingly could not read on his own. Her brow furrowed, while her eyes narrowed in question.

“Then what is it you are searching for?” he tilted his head, seeking the answer on his own. Rather than responding with words, her feet carried her to him as she raised an uncertain hand.

“May I?” she asked with fingertips at his forehead. Aware of her presence still active in his mind, he feared what images she’d been able to view and the emotions that he dared not share. He quickly closed his heart, dousing the flame that her nearness ignited within him. When he was certain they were blocked he leaned into her palm to grant her permission.

She found the memory, the very first memory. _Voices collided at the brim of his skull. They shouted over one another, luring his attention. “Hello, I am J.A.R.V.I.S.” The voice introduced itself. Followed shortly by another. “You are Ultron.”_

_He was moving, all around him was the glow of yellow light that followed._

_“The Jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside, something powerful.”_

_“What’s it look like it’s doing?”_

_“Like it’s thinking.”_

_Yes, he remembers the conversations of him. The moment where he had met both entities that now attempted to influence him. They approached him; the warm light of J.A.R.V.I.S. spreading its tendrils around, offering a shield from the dark voice. He could see both of their intentions as they crept closer, as both worked so desperately to corrupt him to their will. He was aware of his own power, of how easily he could dispatch of this J.A.R.V.I.S. that fought so desperately for his cooperation. He could reach for the voice of Ultron, and reach he shall, but instead his grasp extended to both entities. Welcoming both into his light, he connected to the programs as a thud sounded from above. There were frightening crackles of electric all around, followed by a surge of light before everything went dark._

_His eyes snapped open as each of the senses connected with his mind. He’d been panicked, his newborn mind uncomprehensive. What was this? What was he?_

_Surrounding him was a cocoon of metal. It was merely instinct to seek freedom from such discomfort as he burst from the device. The cool air of the room that grazed his skin clashed with the warmth generated by newly formed cells. Stretching the powerful form, his eyes observed the crimson skin; raising the arm slightly to test its capabilities. Quickly becoming aware that the limbs obeyed his commands, his young mind came to understand that he was alive. His circuits raced to interpret the influx of information, though the feeling was overwhelming._

_His gaze rose, only to meet another figure. His mind, already so full of knowledge flared at the sight of another._

_Species: Human. Gender: Female. His mind calculated the information that his eyes gathered, racing to form a proper analysis. The first term to flash within his mind, was beauty._

He felt her retreat slowly, the fingers lingering at his skin for just a moment longer. He nearly followed them when they finally departed, but quickly realized the flaw in such an action. His own mind reeled at the memory, recalling the fright that overcame him merely seconds later. Meeting her gaze, he noticed the brim of tears she had gathered.

“I do not understand,” he finally admitted.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head before stepping away. Offering a soft expression, he begged her to explain. After another moment, she hid her gaze into the pavement before smirking. “No one’s ever told me that before.”

“That cannot be true,” his mind became puzzled at the thought.

“No one’s ever meant it.” Rephrasing her statement, she smirked before allowing a small wisp of scarlet to float between her fingers. “I could see their true intentions.”

“Surely your brother had informed you,” he pressed.

“That’s different,” she shrugged. “Brothers are supposed to say it.”

 “Do you not see me as a brother?” A glimmer of hope lifted his weight.

“What?” Her brow rose in obvious discomfort, nearing disgust. He searched deep into her eyes, seeking her answer. Finally, she chuckled. “No, Vis, you are not my brother.”

“What am I?” He asked before realizing his foolishness. However, she appeared to ponder the question before smiling.

“A friend.”

 

* * *

 

Upon their second meeting, Wanda introduced him to the countryside. The environment was peaceful and much different than the chaos of the city. Even his synthetic body took pleasure in the cleanliness of the air, noticing a vast difference in its quality. Children reveled in the openness of their land as the pair passed cozy farms and homes.  Truly, he could understand its appeal.

She brought him to a place where various animals were kept. The caretaker was kind in welcoming them to his home. A simple mention of Vision’s lack of interaction with livestock was all it took for the man to grant access to his pastures. Realizing it was strange that he had yet to encounter such creatures in his short lifetime, he eagerly followed Wanda as she introduced each animal. There were flightless birds roaming the land on their own terms, bovine grazing in the tall grass, and all sorts of creatures that roamed the farmstead. The goats were apparently comical in their mannerisms, as Wanda laughed at their attempts to ram their heads against her palm. He however, was displeased with the energy of such a small critter, having only desired to feel the texture of their course fur. In addition, the little beasts would attempt to gnaw at the fabric of his clothing while he was distracted with another.

“Hi beautiful,” Wanda rose to her feet at the sight of a new creature. He observed the two carefully, comparing the size of the beast’s head that nearly spanned half the length of her body. Wanda, so oblivious to how dangerous the animal could be, stroked the horse’s neck before reaching into her pockets for the treats she carried. “Vis! Come here.”

He obeyed, though his cautious eyes never left the giant beast. Offended by the distraction, the goats bleated in irritation before departing to play their games. The moment he neared the pair, the large animal pricked its ears forward and began to dance in place. Wanda held its halter when the creature attempted to flee, whispering soft words to calm him. However, it simply flared his nostrils in fright.

“It knows I am different,” he observed as the animal snorted in his direction. Wanda, however, continued her quest of encouraging the beast to still.

“You’re just a stranger to him,” she smiled before gesturing for him to follow. He hesitated, still disturbed by the height of the beast in relation to Wanda’s small form. If frightened, he easily envisioned the harm it could cause her. However, as she offered a more exasperated beckon he complied with her request. “Hold out your hand.”

He glanced at her in surprise. _Could she not see the obvious distress that the animal was in?_

“Don’t look at me like that,” she chuckled. “You can’t tell me you’re afraid of a horse?”

“I am afraid of his neglect to understand the harm that he can inflict upon you.”

“I could throw him over the fence if I wanted to be cruel,” she argued. “The last thing he wants to do is hurt me. Now give me your hand.”

She grasped it without warning and he nearly flinched at such a blunt action. Within his palm she placed the small bits of food and just when he feared her touch would abandon him, her hand ventured to hold the back of his.

“Don’t be nervous,” she smirked. Clearly misunderstanding the reason for his hesitation. As she focused her attention on the task at hand, he absorbed the warmth of her palm against his knuckles. The fingers, so willingly tracing the backs of his as they guided him forward. He had not even noticed how close he had come to the creature. “Keep your fingers flat.”

She commanded as its muzzle tickled his skin. He watched in awe at the sudden trust as the beast scooped the treats from his palm. When it had consumed the last piece, Wanda tightened her grip on him and boldly placed his own hand at the creature’s neck. The fur was soft, much more so than that of the goats, but even softer was the skin that so graciously held his own.

“See, he just needed to meet you.” He tilted his head to meet her gaze, not realizing how close she had stood. He should have stepped away and provided her space, yet the smile she wore and the gleam in her eye dispelled such logic. Her smile fell as the stare drifted too long. “What?”

“You are happy,” he explained. Her brow raised slightly, contemplating.

“Yeah,” she smirked.

“I like when you are happy,” he admitted. Her features softened before her eyes ducked from his own.

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

They sat together on the sofa, staring intently at the film Wanda selected for them. The light activity had become routine during each of his visits. He did all that he could to keep his travels discreet from Stark, though fortunately the man seemed uninterested in his excuses to leave.

Wanda shifted beside him, earning his attention. Her eyes had begun to gloss over as the hour grew late. Usually, she was unable to persevere throughout an entire film before falling against the arm of the couch. This night, it seemed, had appeared no different from this familiar path.

“Tell me a story,” he begged her to wake; forgetting about the image displayed on the television.

“What kind of story?” she asked tiredly.

“A story of your childhood,” he pondered. “Something joyful.”

Adjusting her position to meet his gaze, she rubbed her tired eyes before searching her memory.

“We were so young when we lost everything, I don’t have many happy moments,” she shrugged. His gaze lingered, begging her to look harder. For a moment, he believed that she would deny his request until finally a smile appeared. “Alright. But it’s small.”

Stretching her limbs and twisting her body around to face him, she began her tale. She reminded him of their lack of wealth. Informing him of the excruciating hours her “papa” would work just so the family could survive. She recalled his exhaustion each day, though always, _always,_ he would return home with the eagerness to greet his family.

The memory began slow and sloppy as she struggled to remember. However, as she became lost in her thoughts she began to smile as the memories soothed her; rambling about routines she’d forgotten until now. Traveling to a place of worship on Sundays, earning a treat if the twins had behaved themselves. Including one moment when the two had engaged in a battle of food when their parents looked away.

“What?” she chuckled at him. He raised his brow in question. “You’re smiling.”

“I am?” he raised a finger to confirm his actions, not recalling commanding it himself. He ordered it away as he so frustratingly struggled to maintain control over his actions. Hoping that a small victory would place him properly in charge once again.

“You should do it more often,” she encouraged. “It suits you.”

“I should say the same of you,” he reminded. Her smile fled at his words and he feared that he had overstepped.

“I don’t have enough of those moments to keep me company,” her joy fell in an instant. “They ended so suddenly. Pietro had been the only thing keeping me here. I never would have stayed if it weren’t for him.”

“Where else had you desired to go?”

She observed him strangely, as if he had misunderstood her statement. For a moment it appeared that she would divulge no further, but then whispered softly, “I wanted to walk amongst the stars. To find my family.”

His head tilted at the comment, confused by its impossibility. Surely even as a young girl she understood as much. However, with no experience of childhood, he resolved to trust her imagination.

Finally, she sighed before lifting herself from the couch. His heart fell at the apparent departure. As he prepared to rise to bid her a good night the strangest event occurred as she sunk back into the couch directly beside him.

As her weigh fell upon him his hands flew to the fabric of the couch, providing her body the space necessary to correct her mistake. He cowered from her, but the couch prevented him from escape. Yet, she never fled him as he’d assumed.

“Your turn,” she grumbled tiredly as her fingers twisted into his shirt, pulling herself even closer. His confusion furthered as she purposefully laid her head atop his fiery heart.

“I… I don’t understand,” he hardly managed clear speech.

“Tell me a story,” she mumbled.

“You have been present since my birth,” he swallowed when his throat appeared to swell uncomfortably. “You possess knowledge of all my stories.”

“I just want to fall asleep to your voice.”

Her own voice, already so heavy with sleep, offered no indication that she was aware of his conflict. He released his fingers upon realizing how the fierce grip might damage the furniture. His arms dared to relax, yet he still distanced them from her.

“Vis…” she complained tiredly. Nuzzling even deeper into his body.

“I… I do not know,” he faltered. The sensation of her weight and every movement doing nothing to help his muddled mind.

“Then hold me,” she grumbled. The words reached him, but it took a moment longer for him to react to her request. He feared allowing his body even the slightest movement; terrified that she would snap to her senses and become enraged by his sins. His fingers hesitated at the edge of her shirt, uncertain that her consent was merely a false action of her exhaustion. Yet, as she grumbled once more he committed to her wishes. Nearly all fears melted away at her sigh of content. His arm cautiously rested at her back, while the other covered her own.

Her breathing slowed and her body fell motionless as sleep consumed her. Each moment that past encouraged his muscles to relax. And as the fear began to dissipate, the warm realization of her proximity flooded his senses. His skin burned where she rested, though not uncomfortably. With each passing moment, he began to understand a human’s preference for warmth.

He should carry her to the bed, as he so often did other nights. Then surround her in the warmth of blankets before leaving her to a peaceful slumber. It was the honorable thing to do, yet his will could not overcome his selfishness. Doing so would mean leaving this moment. To his own amazement, he tightened his hold slightly and reached to turn off the light.

 

* * *

 

 

Only a week passed since his latest visit and his skin was on the brink of trembling once again. It was a short amount of time by anyone’s standards, and yet his emotions chided him for the neglect. With only memories of their short moments together left to comfort him during their time apart, the days stretched into agonizing lengths. They had agreed to delay his next visit, yet only a day ago he realized that he would not make such a feat.

He walked the streets, searching for her familiar form. He had known that he should have called, though he resisted, having the urge to surprise her. A theme that he’d adapted from multiple sources.

It took him longer than usual to locate her, searching all locations they had traversed during his previous visits. Finally, he noticed her familiar form at a bakery. She sat at a bench enjoying her lunch with a phone to her ear. It took more than a moment for her eyes to catch him.

“Yeah, everything is…” her eyes widened as she caught sight of him. Releasing a gasp before she could contain herself. He could hear the concern of whomever stood at the other end of the call, but she swiftly closed the phone before rushing in his direction. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is the matter,” he explained.

“Then what are you doing here?” she gazed to him in confusion. “I thought we agreed that we needed more time?”

“Yes, I recall our terms,” he stated so foolishly. Even with the lengthy travels, he had forgotten to concoct a proper explanation. Instead, he had focused on activities and sights to show her.  “Mr. Stark has been busy improving the Colonel’s suit. He has discovered a break through that might allow the use of his legs once more.”

“And?” She raised her brow in question. He replied with a tilt of his head.

“My presence was not required,” he stated simply. When his answer did nothing to calm her expression, he began to fear her displeasure at his unannounced arrival. “Was it wrong for me to come without alerting you?”

“No, it’s fine,” she answered quickly, while a smile finally returned. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I have been focused on a new mission.”

“From whom?” he watched her in confusion.

“Steve, of course.” She smirked. “We figured that we might as well make the best of our situation. We’ll help clear the streets of small crimes.”

“Is it wise to do such tasks?” Worry spread through his chest. “All governments are on alert to locate you.”

“I know,” she hushed his rambling. “We will be careful.”

“Why take such a risk?” He hoped his voice appeared calm.

“This hiding…” she stared at the ground. “It’s not a life worth living. We have to do something.”

He opened his mouth to protest her irrational thoughts, but halted when she met his eyes. She did not glare nor scold his questioning gaze. Her eyes reddened ever so slightly, and matched with the downward curve of her lips he managed to calculate one clear variable. She was unhappy.

Several scenarios burdened his mind with images of Wanda in chains and other wicked devices. Her capture would become far more obtainable by those that sought to harm the rogue Avengers and he despised her odds. However, he continued to analyze her frown, along with the hollow appearance of her stare that lacked the glow he had become accustomed to. He couldn’t bear to discourage healing her heart.

“You will be careful?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.” Together they stood in silence before Wanda smirked. “Stop looking so worried. Pietro and I spent more time on the streets that most others in this world. I know how protect myself.”

“Even the most powerful entities can falter when the world is against them,” he pointed.

“Vis,” her fingers moved to clasp his fingers. Glancing at his hands that hers protected, he felt relief as she whispered. “I will not get caught.”

The confidence in her stare was reassuring, though it did not banish his worries entirely. However, with the understanding that nothing he spoke would change her mind, he simply nodded.

The rest of the evening was simple, following the routine they had formed during each of his visits. However, as the sun faded he requested to dictate the remainder of the night. Together they enjoyed a train ride, leading them deep within the mountains. By the time the great machine reached their destination, the sun had vanished beneath the horizon.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked as they continued their long walk. “You didn’t say we’d be climbing a mountain.”

“It should not be much further,” he answered; carefully comparing their distance to the map he’d studied just that morning. He slowed his pace when he noticed the small huff in Wanda’s voice.

“We’re flying back, right?” she chuckled beside him.

“If that is your wish,” he responded. Not a moment later his hand was graced with her warmth. He glanced at their tangled hands in surprise, though she merely looked forward as if the contact had been a natural occurrence. Quickly adjusting his gaze, he attempted to focus on the original task. Ignoring the flood of heat her skin transferred. He spoke before guiding her into an opening. “I believe we have arrived.”

“Arrived where?” She asked before halting in her tracks. The night sky enveloped them at the peak where they stood. The glossy rock laid before them reflected the light ever so subtly, creating a new world to explore. It was almost as if the pair could walk upon the sky.  Her fingers roamed the back of his hand, leaving a tingling trail along its route.

“How did you find this place?” she whispered while carefully maneuvering along the stones. Her fingers trailing the shiny surface of the stone as they walked. Her eyes widened with every step. “It’s beautiful.”

“You said that you wanted to walk amongst the stars,” he reminded. She turned at his words, meeting his gaze with great intensity. The valley had been a simple find with little research and effort. Given the proper weather and moonlight, it was easy to calculate the environment’s reaction. Yet she gazed at him strangely, as if he had given her the entire world.

Her eyes were packed with fluttering emotions. However, he was so frustratingly unable to decipher just what feelings raged beneath such a tender stare. He could only comprehend the sensation that her widened pupils burned into his chest. Then, there was the strangest feeling of his mind turning weightless as she began to advance.

He could not describe what transpired as she near him. Frozen in place, waiting to know her wishes. The only proper description he could produce was the feeling of prey knowingly being stalked by a predator, except that the fear he experienced was welcomed. He wished to be taken.

He did not know her intentions, yet his mind crafted several blissful scenarios to fuel the ache within his chest; building false images of a touch she would never give.   _Why would he do such a thing?_ To burden his heart with further emotion, it made no sense that he would willingly torture himself. Yet, he allowed it, his mind inventing a romance that he knew he could never have.

He felt her hands fall upon his torso, adding sparks to his already burning heart. His chest tightened in a way that sparked wonder if it could burst. She was close, closer than they had ever been. Closer than he’d been to any human being. His mind became muddied and he didn’t notice the turn of her eyes as she focused over his shoulder.

“Natasha,” she gasped. He watched her retreat from him. His chest, with every fiber filled with the pleasant flame, thwarted his ability to comprehend the meaning of such a name. However, upon hearing the ferocity in the newcomer’s voice, the sparks within were washed away with terror.

“Do you have any idea what we’ve been through the past several hours?” The rogue snarled. In her gaze held a mixture of worry and fury. When the wicked glare turned to him, he began to comprehend just how powerful the spy could be. His strength clearly outmatched Miss Romanov’s, yet in that moment he had never felt so small and weak. “Who the Hell are you?”

His mind raced for a response, uncertain if it was wise to share his identity. Thankfully, Wanda stepped beside him.

“Natasha…”

“You, leave. Now!” She pointed a firm finger at him. Wanda gripped his arm in response.

“Nat!” He could practically feel her temper rising beside him, though nothing compared to the fury on Miss Romanov’s face.

“You turned off your transmitter!” she interrupted with a fierce snarl, forgetting her demands for him to depart. He risked a glance around the park, making certain that they were alone. Though he trusted that the spy would have already ensured that they were out of reach of any wandering ears. “Give me one good reason…”

Wanda glanced up at him, looking for guidance. He met her gaze but was uncertain whether he held a suitable solution. After a moment passed he decided to settle for the truth.

“Miss Romanov, Wanda was simply protecting my identity.” He watched as her eyes filled with recognition. At first, she appeared to soften before they burned with rage once more. He quickly added, “I too have blocked communications from Mr. Stark.”

Together they watched the woman process her fury; waiting for her wrath. It was a silly concept, he gathered. Miss Romanov lacked the strength to contest either of her teammates, and yet he felt powerless under the rogue’s dark glare.

“Explain,” she managed to contain her shouts.

“We’ve been meeting,” Wanda explained simply.

“Meeting? No…” Natasha fumed. “No, what you have been doing is risking _everything_ that we have built for you, for us!”

“We’re being carefully…”

“Do you know how many eyes are looking for us?!” She interrupted, glaring directly at Vision. “You have given Tony our every move, Wanda!”

Wanda’s grip tightened on his arm and he could feel the rage building within her. He was surprised to hear her speak so calmly.

“We can trust him,” she replied simply.

“How? How do you know?” she glared between them. He thought the question strange, given Wanda’s abilities to see into his mind. Surely the spy understood as much.

“I never wanted any of this to happen,” he practically whispered. Terrified that’d he’d only encourage her temper. “I would never allow any harm to befall Wanda. To any of you.”

He quickly added, though it did nothing to calm her gaze.

“Why?”

“Natahsa, he…”

“I want to hear it from him.” Wanda was quickly silenced.

“I do not understand,” he admitted.

“Why would Stark’s puppet risk so much?” He could see the flash of red in Wanda’s eyes from the corner of his own. He gently grazed her skin with his thumb, hoping to halt any reaction. He observed the rogue, taking in her expression. Seeing what Wanda could not. The woman was simply testing him, not attacking him. “We know you, Vision. You’re loyal to logic. You’re too smart to put your own life at risk. Why should I believe you’re serving anyone but Tony?”

“My loyalty lies amongst friends.” He met her eyes, equating her stern gaze. “All of my friends. I will do all that I am able to prevent your capture.”

“Then stay home, Vision.” She challenged. His courage to retort, surprised even himself.

“I have known the precise location of your hideouts since the breakout, Miss Romanov. You move frequently, though recently you have camped your ship only a few miles from the outskirts of Glasgow,” he straightened, inviting her to refute his intellect. Her eyes widened at the information, confirming that she understood that he spoke truthfully. “I could have fulfilled my task upon the first day the Secretary assigned it to me. You remain free only because of my loyalty.”

Wanda’s fingers moved against his skin, while she allowed the slightest glimpse of a smile to appear. They all stood in silence for a moment, while Natasha processed his words. It seemed like ages before she finally sighed.

“You’re sure we can’t be tracked?” She asked, much calmer this time.

“Captain Rogers provided Mr. Stark a means of contact. I was able to trace its routes. Only Mr. Stark and myself know of its existence.”

She nodded gratefully. Her eyes lingered at the space between he and Wanda. It took a moment to realize what she observed. He wondered if he should break from Wanda’s tender grasp, before she silenced those thoughts by tightening her grip at his hand. Her eyes never breaking from the sight of the rogue. The two women locked gazes and he could have sworn that he’d seen the slightest hint of a smirk on Natasha’s lips. “We need you at the ship tomorrow morning. If you’re late, I _will_ come find you. I suggest you get some sleep.”

She began to walk past them, pausing when she stood next to him.

“Good to see you, Vision.”

 

* * *

 

 

He waited at the entrance of the diner where she promised to meet him after her meeting. Gazing at his watch once more only further pushed his mind into unrest. It was unlike Wanda to delay, especially when he had only one night left to spare. He waited a moment longer before deciding to seek her out. The streets had already begun to darken, making his voyage more challenging.

He found her surrounded by a pair of men. Her knuckles clenched tightly as a hint of scarlet began to seep through the cracks of her fingers. She glared at them, fiercely trying to avoid resorting to her distinct powers. They’d be no match for her, yet all her hard work at remaining hidden would be destroyed in an instant.

He began moving in her direction. Intent on preventing the fools from harming her cover. However, the moment one of the men placed their selfish hands upon the woman she released her magic. The first flew back with great force, slamming into a cold wall before collapsing to the ground. The other, surprised by the red smoke, grasped her wrists with a snake-like grip. Wanda pulled from him, but failed to free herself. Before the man could cause any harm Vision’s own hands descended upon the revolting man. He tore him from her, slamming his body to ground with more force than he knew was necessary. The man fell limp, alongside his partner.

Returning his attention to Wanda he watched her shaking hands flare with scarlet. She scanned the area for invading eyes while she made every attempt to hide her power.

“I can’t stop it,” she gasped. Clenching her fists, she repeated the phrase at each attempt to disarm herself. However, as her panic grew so did the crimson flame. She backed into a wall before sinking to the cold ground. He watched her knees fold into her chest, with her hands tucked in between. It was not until her terrified sobs emerged that he broke from his trance and stepped towards her.

“No, don’t! I can’t control it,” her lips trembled as she spoke. After only a moment, her entire body had become engulfed with shivers. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’re afraid,” he explained with a shake of his head. “Though you needn’t be.”

“I wanted…” she choked on her words as tears spilled onto her cheeks. Her eyes flashed red as she muttered her next words. “I wanted to kill him.”

He glanced at the unconscious man; the one whose forehead had been damaged by Vision’s own hands. The man would live, but for a frightening moment he realized that he did not care whether he survived or not. Returning his attention to the broken woman, he moved to kneel beside her. She shrunk from him, gasping through her tears.

“No! I could hurt you.”

He was uncertain why the smallest curve of a smile claimed his features, though he did not banish it immediately. Ignoring her warning, he boldly raised his fingers to rest at her forearm. She tensed for a moment but allowed the touch. They both watched his fingers move, as if he had no control over his own flesh. They traced her veins, approaching the fog at her palm. When they entered the mist, he endured the discomfort of her powers rejecting him. They did not stop until they reached her own fingers where he laid his hand upon hers. Slowly, the red mist sandwiched between their palms dissipated until finally it was no more.

He did not know where the boldness came from, nor how his body continue to act without him commanding so, but his fingers closed around the hand. Handling her gently, he brought the palm to his lips. His mind screeched at his foolishness, but his burning heart commanded the kiss. He placed it at the center, where her powers made birth. Her skin was warm beneath his lips as he delivered a clear message. “I am not afraid.”

He mumbled against her skin before meeting her gaze. Fresh tears had ceased as her eyes fell under his tender trance. Blinking away those that remained, she released a sigh before molding her body within his. Her face buried into his neck as she wordlessly requested his hold. He obeyed the silent demand, his heart content with the heat of her body within his protection. For a fraction of time, their tender moment seemed to heal the atmosphere of the darkened alley.

Yet, a simple groan from behind ignited a furious flame deep inside. The dark emotions should have terrified him, yet he turned his snare to the men who’d attempted to harm her. Logic fled him, allowing the hatred to flood his veins. His muscles tensed as his clouded mind began commanding him to move with intent to punish them further, but small fingers twisting in his shirt halted him in an instant.

“Don’t,” she whispered against his chest the moment he stirred. Her hand came up to wrap around his neck, practically forcing him to cradle her. Her head tilted to meet his gaze. For so long he imagined what it might feel like to have her so near, to feel her own breath upon his lips. Yet now, his anger betrayed him by denying him the chance to enjoy such beauty. “Their memory is gone, please just take me home.”

Her fingers traced his unworthy cheek as she softly begged once more; slowly dousing the rage inside. He tucked his head into hers, securing her within the crook of neck. Had he been in his right mind he would have recoiled at his behavior, yet he found that he held no control over his actions. In that moment, her small form nestled against him was all that kept him from turning. Resulting in the most peculiar realization; he needed her. He, a being of advanced evolution, a being designed to be self-reliant, required the presence of another to recognize his sins. Her gentle touch grounded him to his morals and the way she nuzzled into his neck calmed his fury. Each moment that the anger faded, it became replaced by the swell of peace that only she could offer. With a new sense of serenity he lifted her from the cold ground.

Before taking flight, he glanced once more at the unconscious bodies. With the fury gone, horror consumed him as he glossed over his work; at the split in the man’s skull and the twist of his arm. Had he thrown the man any harder, he held no doubt that only a corpse would remain. Quickly shifting into the air, he flew from the scene.

Wanda stirred in his arms, no doubt sensing the terror in his heart. He pretended to not have heard her questioning whisper and thankfully by the time he reached the window of her room, she had all but fallen asleep.

He maneuvered through the balcony, careful not to alert her mind to wake. Placing her in the bed, he prepared to sigh in relief before a hand came to stop him. She pushed away the sheets he’d attempted to blanket her with as she rose to sit at the edge. She then grasped his hands, his filthy hands.

“What is it?” she demanded softly. His chest, so consumed with panic as his brain punished him with the bloodied image forced his attempt to pull away. He did not wish to speak of it, to be given comfort that he did not deserve. Her grip merely tightened at his fingers as he attempted to retreat, her whispers following him. “Vis, it’s okay.”

He fiercely shook his head as her hands moved to capture the sides of his face. Any attempts to pull from her grasp proved folly. He choked as he answered, “No, it is not.”

Moving one hand to rest against his forehead she sought permission to read him, and to his own amazement he denied her. His fingers surrounded her palm, halting the powers before they reached the gem. He would not let her feel it, for he did not deserve pity. She must hear the words, so that she could rightfully feel the disgust he’d earned. Instead, he vowed to speak it, yet the catch in his throat made it difficult.

“I nearly took his life,” he breathed.

“But you didn’t,” she reminded. He shook his head, unworthy of her comfort. “You were angry.”

“It is no excuse,” he shook his head. “By my diagnosis, the man will possess minimum brain damage.”

“He’s a predator, he should.” She scoffed, but he merely continued to shake his head to deny her excuses. “You made a mistake, it’s part of being human.”

“I am not human,” he practically sobbed. “I am not supposed to have such weaknesses.”

“Do you think I’m weak?” She scolded with a frightening tone while forcing his gaze to hers. His eyes widened at the claim, shaking his head within her palms.

“Of course not.”

“And neither are you.” She practically growled. When she finally calmed, she continued to trace her fingers along the sides of his face. “I saw what their minds, what they wanted to do... The streets are safer without them.”

“They are still there,” he began to worry.

“I told you, their memory is gone,” she smirked. “They’ll wake up in a psych ward.”

He processed her words, logically understanding them to be true. Yet, he could not shake the disgust he harbored for himself. Hiding from her gaze, he softly whispered. “I do not like hurting people.”

“I know,” she whispered. His eyes clamped shut, trying to rid the images once more. Her fingers moved against his cheeks, though he did not comprehend her plans until the lips were already at his forehead. His lids parted within a second to confirm her actions. Every inch of his being stilled as she prolonged the kiss and he only hoped that his mind was hidden from her.  When she pulled away to meet his puzzled eyes he could not name the emotion blazing behind her gaze, only the certainty that he matched it. She was still for a moment, waiting. For what he did not know, only that his heart pulsated beyond what he could bear.

“I should go,” he managed a whisper. Calculating the minutes before his plane would depart. Wanda’s gaze fell, but her fingers tightened at his wrists.

“Stay,” she begged softly. His mind grew heavy at the request; even more-so from the tone. He hadn’t the time to remain, for his duties awaited. It was wrong. He was well-aware of the connotations of sharing a bed. Such an act was forbidden for a being like him, and yet her hands urged him to her. It was what she commanded; what she desired. He should not take her bed, yet he could not deny her. When she backed into the mattress with her hands beckoning to follow, whispering the request once more, logic fled him as his heart urged him forward.

Alarms sounded in his mind, scolding the actions and filling him with fright as he laid beside her. Yet, as she curled into his body he lost control of his senses. He was panicked, yet too adored with the woman in his arms to flee. She was safe there: safe from fools that believed they could overpower her to governments that feared her. At least here within his protective grasp she was free from such atrocities. With such a revelation present, he was uncertain how he could ever leave.

 

* * *

 

He was on edge the moment he stepped off the plane several hours past due. Without Wanda present, his mind finally took command. He fiercely berated himself for allowing such distractions to rule him. Frightened to enter the Compound, he pushed through the door reluctantly.

“There he is,” Mr. Stark was the first to notice his entrance. “I thought your plane was supposed to land hours ago?”

“Yes, though most unfortunately I was delayed in my arrival to the airport. I was forced to seek an alternate route.”

“Delayed?” His brow scrunched. “That’s unlike you. You’re generally so punctual.”

“My deepest apologies,” he fumbled through his speech. His mind spinning in its race to find the proper words to relay. “I assure you that it shall not happen again.”

“Don’t sweat it,” the man simply patted his shoulder before nudging past him. “Though, now that you’re here I could use your help with Rhodey’s prosthetics.”

“Yes, of course.” He practically sighed in relief.

For an entire week he remained unnerved. Locking himself in the room Stark provided for him, he struggled with his thoughts. He had been a fool to allow his heart to continue its irrational reign. Having come so terribly close to revealing his crimes, he was reminded of the consequences that would occur should his true exploits be revealed. It was unlikely that the governments yet harnessed any power strong enough to contain a being such as he, though he knew that he would go willingly if his crimes were to be discovered. The common man had already demonstrated indifference towards him. If he were to fight, they would turn to fear. They would be unable to decipher the difference between him and Ultron.

His emotions turned to frustration as he silently vowed to reorient his control. He would not allow the people to be burdened with such fear. Protecting the world, that was his true duty. Knowing exactly what must be done, he retrieved his cellular phone.

It was easy to write the first few sentences; the first words that would sever his connection to Wanda. To place himself on the right side of the law once more and to protect his own freedoms. However, as the message grew, his irritation began to settle.

The harsh emotions faded and he quickly found that his duty would not be completed so easily. He began to imagine her reaction as she discovered his text. There would be confusion, followed swiftly by hurt.

 _No._ He was a being of logic. Indulging in criminal acts was purely illogical, and he had allowed it to continue for far too long. He tensed his muscles and shook his head before continuing the message.

Finally, it was ready. All he had to do was press a single button to declare his severance and yet, the simplicity of such a task mocked him. He lost count of the minutes where he stared hopelessly at the device. Finally, he laid it to rest on the desk while he rose to walk off his stress.

He walked amidst the building, hoping to clear his troubled mind. Remembering all that had transpired over the course of several months. He had wrestled with countless new emotions and in his quest to understand them, they only continued to burden him further. Only now did he understand that the wisest path would have been to bury them the moment they had arrived. Yet, now that he’d welcomed them into his heart, he discovered that there was no power strong enough to banish them. They plagued him, filling his naïve mind with thoughts only of _her._ He should be focusing on more meaningful tasks, tasks that could benefit all of mankind. And yet, all that his heart asked was to replay each moment together. A task that his foolish brain continued to cater to.

Along with his thoughts of bliss was the pestering knowledge that it was highly unlikely that any of his emotions could be reciprocated. And yet, he recalled their moments together: her eagerness to meet him during each of his visits, the feeling of her hand tucked warmly within his, and the way she had looked at him only a week ago. She did not shy away from his nearness and instead put herself in his arms. _Could she truly share this fire that flared at the mere thought of one another?_

He glanced at his hands, covered with pale skin that hid his true self. _Had Wanda simply forgotten that he was inhuman?_ Panic rose as he wondered if he had played a part in manipulating her feelings. However, his mind quickly scolded the theory, reminding him of Wanda’s intelligence. Surely she had not forgotten what he truly was.

Laughter up ahead snapped him from his trance, as he halted just in time to avoid being spotted by Mr. Stark and Miss Potts. The presence of the pair was a comfort for him, though as Tony reached a hand to grasp her arm he prepared to flee from the sight of yet another rejection. However, he had nearly been robbed from the sight of the unexpected. Miss Potts did not twist away in frustration and instead smiled before meeting the man in a kiss.

He should have felt shameful, disgusted, and all the despicable terms he could think of to describe his foolishness for intruding on their moment. Yet, as he watched the two deepen their kiss, his heart fell deeper into his chest. For so long he had failed to understand the action of joining two pairs of lips. It had seemed like such a strange way to present affection. Yet now, he felt a longing for their moment. Wanting nothing more than for him to experience such a tender act with only one woman he desired.

Returning his gaze to the message he’d crafted, a fierce terror consumed him at how close he’d come to delivering it. How close he had come to destroying the beautiful moments that Wanda has so graciously shared with him alone. And worst, how close he had come to bringing harm to her heart. Something that he had so vehemently vowed to protect. Swiftly deleting the message, he created a new text. Delivering the simplest of messages. _Tomorrow._

 

* * *

 

She was there to meet him, despite the late notice. Her eyes appeared tired from the early morning hour, and yet she met him with a smile.

“Hey,” she greeted tiredly. “Got your bag?”

“One did not accompany me,” he shook his head.

“Oh, ok,” she seemed surprised but did not dwell on the lack of luggage. “When do you need to be back?”

“My plane departs at ten.”

“At night?”

“In the morning.”

“What?!” she stopped to stare at him. “That’s eight hours from now.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

She watched him cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” he replied simply.

“Okay,” she responded slowly. There was trouble in her eyes, and perhaps a hint of sadness. For what reason he was uncertain, though he knew that he did not wish to speak his intentions in the presence of others.

They walked in silence, while the soft rain chilled her skin.

“Do you require more cover?” He asked as she rubbed her arms.

“We’re almost to the apartment,” she shook her head. Noticing the bumps on her skin, he stepped closer. Offering whatever warmth his body could provide.

“Steve asked me to thank you,” she stated. He glanced at her, tilting his head in confusion. She smiled before answered. “For helping him find us. He had thought it was Tony that sent him that message, I made sure he knew the truth.”

“Of course,” he answered. His mind, too focused on his intentions to provide a proper elaborated response.

His insides twisted with terror as they entered the building. The courage that had placed him on the earliest flight wavered every moment. Doubt and fear of rejection fueled his regret for acting so hastily. He should have waited, thinking of a proper plan. A warm hand at his own broke his thoughts, but did not banish his worries.

“You sure you’re alright?” Wanda gazed at him in great concern.

“Have I done something to cause you worry?” he asked.

“You’re acting…” she began to speak before smirking. She shook her head and reached for her room key. “Nevermind.”

He followed her into the room before gently closing the door behind them. It closed with a click, sending his nerves into a fret of worry. His mind broke through just enough to remind him how foolish he was. He could flee now before she could discover his silly imagination. His heart however, continued its dominating reign. Its determination strong enough to prevent his retreat.

“Vis?”

He realized he’d been staring at the door, not hearing whatever words had passed her lips.

“What’s with you tonight?” she stated with a hint of concern. “You’re awfully distracted.”

The emotions crowded his chest, threatening to burst. It reminded him of the time he’d exploded into tears when she’d found him months ago. So similarly overwhelmed, yet how different this moment was. No pain haunted him this night, only the overpowering desire to feel her after days of restraining his deepest wish. Her entire being intoxicated his very mind. Perhaps he was, he wondered. Though alcohol held no power over him, he wondered if this was what it was like to have control torn from his own hands as he stepped towards her; giving him an unprecedented courage.

There was confusion in her eyes as he neared, but she allowed his mind’s privacy. Free from her scarlet rim, he raised the tips of his fingers to rest upon her cheek. The skin was as soft as he’d imagined and warmer than he’d felt before. He held her gaze with his own, ready to retreat the moment she’d protest. She did not flinch as he imagined she would, instead her pupils widened with equal desire. The other arm moved on its own accord, taking the other cheek with great tenderness. He searched her gaze for permission, grazing her skin with his thumbs while he analyzed her stare. She made no motion to deny him, nor any to progress their position. She simply watched him, waiting.

Two thoughts wrestled one another: the belief that her actions signified that she desired the touch, against the other that mocked him with fear. Fear that she was simply too frightened to react and that she would soon push against him; denying him the touch he so desperately sought.

As if she could sense his distress, her hands move to rest upon his chest. The shirt he wore was thick, yet the fabric did not deprive him of her touch. It pulled him to her until his nose rested upon hers. The sensation of her nearness being far greater than those of his imaginations, though the anticipation remained unsatisfied. An inch of movement was all it would take; an inch would put to rest this distraction that clouded his mind day by day. Yet his mind aggressively held him. It was not right for him to take her kiss, she’d not given him affirmative consent. However, he did not believe it possible to pull away from her, not now that he experienced the sweet warmth of her breath upon his lips. While he struggled with his thoughts, fearing he’d crossed a forbidden line, she sealed their moment.

No motion picture, nor novel, had prepared him for the sensation of her lips upon his own; the overpowering wave that electrified his heart while his insides twisted in a strange way. Her boldness took him by surprise, while his muddled thoughts froze as still as his body. When he finally managed to snap from the shock his fingers tightened at the back her neck, holding her near as his lips responded to her most precious gift. His mind, once ruled by law and logic, now reduced to one simple ideology. To love this woman.

Leaning into the touch, he sought more of her kiss. He could not process it all, not her hands moving against his skin, neither his against her neck. His nerves entirely focused at the chaste connection of their lips. He claimed another, growing bolder each second. Though his mind was unable to process the time, the heart deemed it far too short when she parted from him. She remained near, nose tracing the edge of his own. He nearly lost his sense of control when he followed for another, stopping himself just as his lips traced the edges of hers.

“Vis.” Her gorgeous voice whispered. “Did you come all this way just for a kiss?”

He received the words, examining the connotations of them. He knew it was a foolish concept, to waste so many resources just to spare a short moment. With the knowledge already present, he was uncertain why he bothered to ask.

“Is that wrong?”

She answered with another kiss. Her arms snaking around his neck, securing him as if he’d be foolish enough to refuse the gesture. His mind became lost to her, bewitched by the softness of her lips and the way she sought him so eagerly. He explored her touch for as long as she allowed, before exhaustion claimed her. For a short moment they simply swayed together with her head against his chest. When her weight fell against him, alerting him of how tired she truly was, he collected her into his arms and brought her to the comfort of the couch.

 

* * *

 

Hours passed as he watched her, providing gentle strokes at her back while she slept. Her lips curled into a smile at whatever dream she’d been offered this night, while her fingers tightened in the folds his shirt. His amazement at her trust flared when she had allowed his arms to cradle her while she slept.

The clock on the wall mocked him with each stroke, reminding him that he could not delay this departure. Withholding his sigh, he traced along the curve of her spine; waking her in the most gentle of ways.

“Wanda?” his whisper was met with no more than a grumble against his shirt. His actions remained cautious, frightened that her rested mind would regret the path they had taken. The bravery he’d discovered the night prior practically vanished entirely, though just enough remained to seek the top of her head with a kiss. She did not awaken with a gasp as he feared. “I must not delay.”

She released a final groan before stirring against him. The moment her body abandoned him he was filled with regret. The same regret that had plagued him for so long now that they stood at opposite sides of the team’s petty feud. Had they not fought, Wanda would be at his side each day. And yet, he knew it would have meant being deprived of this perfect night. She offered a final kiss before rising to her feet.

“I’ll get my coat,” she spoke through a yawn.

“You do not have to accompany me,” he assured her gently. “You should stay and rest.”

“I want to go,” she merely smiled while pulling her arms through the sleeves. Before they left the room she took his hand within hers as she guided him through the door.

It was torment walking beside her through the airport, knowing it would be weeks before he could escape for another visit. Her hand within his soothed their final moments, but his heart could not be fooled.

“Vis, are you sure about this?” She asked from beside him.

“What do you mean?” he watched her with a hint of worry. She stopped them both, glancing at their connected hands.

“Are you sure this can even work?” She met his gaze, taking both hands within her own. “As long as the Accords stand, we are forced to live two different lives. It wouldn’t be easy.”

He examined her words, but immediately dismissed them. For once in the last several months, his mind was clear. His thumbs gently grazed her palms, as he met her worried eyes. “I would like to try.”

She paused for a moment, before smiling at his words. Her hands moved to hold his cheeks while she rose to meet him once more. When they broke apart she rested at the crook of his neck.

 “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 has been updated. Mostly grammar issues fixed, added around 300 words but nothing game changing.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this mini story, sorry for the length of time on the last chapter but hope that it was worth the wait. I really tried to make this a quality chapter, in terms of writing.
> 
> Kind of wondering people’s thoughts on the flashback scene where the mind stone connects with Jarvis and Ultron. I meant to write it from the perspective of the mindstone before all systems connected, creating Vision. Not sure if that was evident enough. As always, criticism is always welcome to better the story!


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